


red, orange, yellow, green, even thicker

by eatthatup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatthatup/pseuds/eatthatup
Summary: Kun isn’t used to being praised. Physically, at least.Then comes Ten, and it changes.





	red, orange, yellow, green, even thicker

**Author's Note:**

> title from vivid - heejin (loona)

Kun isn’t used to being praised. 

Psychally, at least. 

Then comes Ten, and it changes. He doesn’t know exactly when, or how, or _why_ it even started, but the dull aspect of his life is filled with the widest spectrum of colors. So Kun can’t complain, really, he just allows it to happen. 

A particular relaxing night is one of the many unfolding points. 

“Wow,” Ten’s voice exclaims from behind him. “Nice body.”

Kun isn't used to this, so he looks down and _flushes_ bright red. It's processed utterly as a joke by his brain, a mockery. That's what mostly happens, that's why Kun can't just get used to it.

But Ten notices. He always does.

“Wait.” One step closer. Kun finishes putting on a shirt, and wishes he had never taken it off.

There's heat all over his body from the embarrassment. He's not an exhibitionist like most of his roommates—like Ten himself. Kun can't find a reason that doesn't lead him to it being a joke.

“Oh my God, Kun.” Now Ten approaches him with a frown on his face, a worried expression. “It isn't—I'm not making fun of you, you know that?” 

Kun keeps his gaze down while reaching for his jacket. “It's okay.”

Still, Ten is quicker. He grabs his arm so Kun is, in a way, forced to look at him. But he doesn't, he can't. 

“For real—Kun you're _beautiful_.” He isn't used to this. “Like, well I'm sorry for barging in, but I was being honest.”

Kun is sure he's blushing. Despite it, he tries to make eye-contact as a way to demonstrate his feelings.

“ _Thank you_ , Ten.” It comes from the deepest part of him. But Kun still doesn't believe Ten.

Eventually, he does.

When Ten doesn't let it go, throwing those comments at him like they are slipping out of his mouth naturally. Like he means it. So Kun starts believing him. He allows Ten to sit with him while having breakfast, and they get lunch together after practice, because Ten is insistent.

“Eat these.” Ten whispers, pushing a plate of chocolate chip cookies his way. 

Kun knows he’s on a diet, is aware he shouldn't. But the thrill of grabbing a handful and shoving them in his mouth is convincing enough. 

Ten’s satisfied grin is a better reward. 

“Cute.” 

And although Kun doesn't get used to it, he believes him.

The praises don't stop or slow down. And a stormy night, as relaxed but not as lonely as the night Ten saw him half-naked, Ten kisses him.

He looks at Kun and smiles and then—Ten is kissing him softly, gently, the same way he talks, honeyed and high-pitched voice. It's a mix of many things, and it fills Kun with every color of the rainbow. There's red, orange, yellow and—

“You're so pretty.” Murmured against his lips.

Kun melts. 

The movie playing in the background is just another shadow. Real colors manifest in front of him in the shape of words, and kisses, and Ten. Vivid, real. Hard to get used to, but Kun unwinds and gives in. 

“Your lips are so soft.”

There are very few parts of his body that Ten hasn't praised, he makes sure of it. His legs, his arms, his neck, his sometimes chubby cheeks, even _his feet_. It's a thrilling experience.

Slowly, Kun starts being more attentive. Now he expects it, he doesn't blush as much, doesn't look down and avoid eye-contact. He smiles at Ten and kisses him and lets Ten _touch_ him. Whenever, wherever.

“I love your tummy.” With Ten pressing his lips against his skin, butterfly kisses. 

He can't help but shiver, closing his eyes, blissfully. The praises go straight south.

And then—

“My pretty _baby_.” Is whispered against his ear, out of breath, while Ten caresses every part of his body, his sides and waist and _holds_ him. 

Gradually. Kun starts getting used to it.

With Ten on top of him, moving, rolling, and Kun can't help but moan because it's good. And there's is no shame left inside his body—just colors. Ten brings one hand up to his stomach, letting his fingers dance on the skin and the thickness that's slowly disappearing. 

“Kun, do you hear me, _baby_?” He says. Kun unconsciously obliges and opens his eyes. “You're beautiful.”

It's physical but also deep, emotional. 

Ten praises him while leaving scratch marks on his chest, moaning, he praises Kun every morning when Kun cooks breakfast for all of them. When there's practice and Kun needs just a bit of motivation. In between every kiss, every stare. There's appreciation.

(“You look really pretty.” It's all he can say. There are no words, truly, because Kun is not good at them. And Ten is much more than that, with his black hair all messy, residues of the sunset on his skin. Golden. A deep in thought expression, puckered lips and knitted brows.

Kun tries to show him in other ways, every day. But sometimes, he guesses it must not be enough.

“What?” Ten questions. He looks up from the book he’s reading, and his glasses are only a fraction of his beauty. “You don't have to praise me just because _I_ shower you with love.”

“I know.” Kun huffs. “But you are. Pretty, I mean.”

So Ten giggles, leans up to plant a kiss on his nose and says:

“Save it. That's my job.”)

And maybe Kun will never get fully used to it.


End file.
